LOGINSomeone is shaking my shoulder.“Ethan. Wake up.”I groan and bury my face deeper into my sleeping bag. For half a second I forget where I am again. Then I hear birds. A lot of them. And the soft murmur of kids already outside.Jules pokes me harder.“If I’m awake, you’re awake.”I sit up slowly, hair a mess, hoodie twisted around my neck. My body feels stiff from sleeping on the ground. I stretch and my back cracks.“This is illegal,” I mumble.Jules grins. “You survived your first night in the wild.”I glance at my phone. 7:02 a.m.I rub my face and step outside the tent.The camp is already moving. Teachers are setting up folding tables. A few kids are brushing their teeth near a portable sink station. Someone is complaining loudly about the cold water.I spot Isabella almost immediately.She’s standing near Roxie, holding a toothbrush, hair tied into a loose ponytail. She looks tired but in a soft way, like she didn’t sleep much but didn’t mind it.She looks up and our eyes meet a
I wake up because the night feels different.Not louder. Not quieter. Just… awake.For a second, I don’t know where I am. The tent ceiling hovers inches above my face, dark and unfamiliar. The air smells like smoke and grass and something damp. Then it all comes back—the bus, the tents, the fire.Jules is asleep beside me, turned toward the tent wall, breathing slow and even. He talks in his sleep sometimes, but tonight he’s quiet.I stare up at the canvas, listening.The woods don’t sleep like the city does. There’s no full silence. Something is always moving. Leaves brushing. A branch snapping somewhere far off. Insects humming like tiny machines. It should be scary.It isn’t.I roll onto my side, careful not to wake Jules, and check my phone under the blanket. No signal, obviously. But the time glows back at me anyway.12:17 a.m.I don’t know why I do it, but I open my messages.Isabella’s name is there, sitting calmly like it belongs. Like it’s always belonged.I type slowly.Are
The teachers didn’t waste time.The moment everyone was off the bus and standing around with bags at their feet, trying to act like they weren’t overwhelmed by the trees and the quiet and the fact that there were no buildings anywhere, one of them clapped her hands loud enough to make a few birds scatter.“Okay, listen up,” she said. “We’re setting up camp. You’ll be working in pairs.”Groans. Cheers. Nervous laughter.She kept talking, explaining how everything would work. We were shown how to open the tents, how to slide the poles through without bending them, how to hammer the pegs into the ground at an angle so the wind wouldn’t knock everything over. She demonstrated slowly, like she expected us to mess it up anyway.I tried to pay attention. I really did. But my eyes kept drifting.Isabella stood a few feet away, her backpack on the ground, listening closely, her brow pulled together in that serious way she had when she was concentrating. Roxie was beside her tall, brown hair pu
The bus was already there when Mama and I arrived.Big. Yellow. Loud.It looked too excited for how early it was, engine rumbling like it couldn’t wait to leave us behind. Kids were everywhere, dragging bags that looked heavier than they were, parents bending down to give last-minute warnings, teachers holding clipboards like shields.Mama parked slowly, like she wasn’t ready to let the moment happen.“There it is,” she said, even though I could see it.I nodded and adjusted my backpack on my shoulders. It felt heavier than usual, not because of what was inside, but because of what it meant. Three days. No Mama calling my name from the kitchen. No Papa’s late-night voice on the phone. Just me, a bus, the woods, and a lot of people pretending not to be nervous.Mama turned to me. She fixed my collar, smoothed my hair, then stopped herself like she realized she was doing too much.“You have everything?” she asked.“Yes, Mama.”“Socks?”“Yes.”“Your—”“Yes,” I said again, smiling a littl
Some mornings it smells like chalk and paper and something dusty that makes my nose itch. Other mornings it smells like perfume and lunch and the floor cleaner the janitor uses that always reminds me of lemons. Today it smelled like rain, even though the sky was clear, like the walls remembered something the weather had forgotten.Mama dropped me off early because she had a meeting. She kissed my cheek twice, told me to behave, told me she loved me, told me not to forget my lunch. I watched her car disappear down the road before I turned toward the building. I don’t know why, but I felt like something was waiting for me inside. Not bad. Just… different.I found Isabella in class before I even sat down.She was already there, like always, sitting straight with her hands folded on her desk, her hair falling neatly down her back like she had brushed it a hundred times. She left the seat beside her empty. For me. That small thing still made my chest feel warm every time.“You’re early,” s
I was leaning against the kitchen counter when Roman came home, my palms flat on the cool marble like I needed it to hold me upright. The house was quiet in that way it only ever was when Ethan wasn’t running around, when his laughter wasn’t bouncing off the walls. It should’ve felt peaceful but instead, it felt heavy like the air itself knew something I didn’t want to say out loud.Roman’s keys landed in the bowl by the door. I didn’t turn around, but I felt him before I saw him his presence always announced itself like that. Steady. Familiar. Safe he always makes me safe in a way i do not like admitting.“Ari?” I heard him say. The way he said my name told me he’d already noticed. He always did.His arms slipped around my waist from behind, warm and solid, pulling me back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to my neck, slow and lingering, the way he did like without me in his arms something doesn't feel right. When he thought I was slipping somewhere he couldn’t follow without perm
Ariana's POVThree months.That’s how long I’d been living in this house. Three months since Roman Sinclair stopped being just my stepbrother and started becoming my secret addiction.We never talked about what we were. We just kept touching, kept stealing moments when the house was asleep or empty
Roman’s POVThe air was thick with salt, sunscreen, and tension.I’d barely stepped out of the game circle when my phone buzzed.Faculty.My stomach clenched. A name I didn’t expect: Dean Halbridge."Roman Sinclair. Office. Now."No explanation. No patience. Just those words. Like a fucking guillot
Roman’s POVThe bonfire crackled, throwing golden sparks into the air like fireflies on acid.Ariana laughed next to me soft, real the kind of sound that felt rare lately. Her head was tilted back, her hair messy from the beach, her cheeks still flushed from the game, and that bikini she wore? Fuck
Ariana’s POVThe bus ride home felt like waking from a dream you didn’t want to end.The ocean was a distant memory now, just salt on my skin and secrets in my veins. Lana sat next to me, humming to herself, like she hadn’t nearly burned the entire world down. I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. My thoughts







